Wipe the Slate Clean

So there we were, standing on a sidewalk in the middle of downtown Gatlinburg, Tennessee. A couple in their mid-thirties with three kids ages 5, 8 and 10 struggling to have fun and enjoy a vacation together.

It wasn’t happening.

People were passing us on either side much like water going around a rock in the middle of a stream as we argued over kids not obeying, how much money had been spent, who was chewing too loudly, and whatever else we could get mad about. To be honest, I don’t really remember what we were upset about . . . what I was upset about . . . but boy was it getting ugly (and by “it” I mean ME).

I do remember it was CHRISTMAS. And rather than having peace on earth and goodwill towards men, I was having an all out total meltdown. No seriously, I was losing it. I felt like screaming or throwing something or even hitting something (or someone). Before I knew it I blurted the words, “I’m done. Let’s just forget it and go home” and then I walked away. Yes, I turned my back on my family and walked away (not my best moment).

There are many “not my best moment” moments in parenting. Oh, we strive to be our best, do what’s best, say what’s best—all those best things great parents do—but it’s hard. Parenting is hard. And the more I try to do my best, the more I realize how hard it is.

One thing I learned during this “not my best moment” is that what I do—what you do—after times like these can actually become your best moments as a parent.

I made it about ten steps down the sidewalk and then stopped. My heart was heavy with conviction. I was wrong. And I knew it. As the rage turned into remorse I made the choice to turn around and go back to my family. I had no idea what I was going to say or do, but in those ten steps back I came up with this:

“Guys, I love you. I love Daddy. I love Joseph. I love Sarah. And I love Anna. Mommy was wrong. I was wrong for my attitude and for getting so angry. I want to have fun with you. Do you think we can start over?”

My family responded with a heartfelt, “we forgive you” and, “we love you” and then did something I will never forget. They began admitting their own contributions to the Ward family “moment.” Each one said what they did wrong and asked for forgiveness. They had followed my example.

That’s when I came up with the “wipe the slate clean” thing we do. I told them to pull out an imaginary slate (I explained it’s like a chalkboard, they got it.) and pretend to write down the things they shouldn’t have said or done and then we would pull out our imaginary erasers and wipe them away.

And that’s what we did.

On the same sidewalk where I had my meltdown, we wrote down our wrongs and wiped them away. We had a clean slate. A new start. Another chance to get it right.

“This is why Jesus came, kids. Forgiveness. God knew we could never be good enough on our own so He sent Jesus to take our punishment. Because of what Jesus did on the cross, our slates can be wiped clean. We can have a new heart. Ok, now who’s ready to hug it out and go have some fun?”

It turned out to be an awesome vacation and one of my best parent moments.

My kids are now 13, 16 and 18. We have wiped our slates clean more times than I can count. When things start unraveling in our home, tempers flare and words are carelessly thrown around any one of us will say, “Hey, we need a clean slate. Let’s start again.”

Kids don’t need perfect parents. Which is good news for you and me because perfect is not possible.
Kids do need imperfect parents who are willing to humble themselves, admit their wrongs, ask forgiveness and let it go.

When we do this we give our kids a front row seat to the gospel, the grace of God, Jesus living and breathing right in front of their eyes. Our kids are watching and waiting. Let’s make sure we give them Hisbest.

“He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west.” Psalm 103:12
by Autumn Ward

Like Fine China

What happens every day in your home defines what normal becomes for your family. It may become normal to go camping every summer. It might become normal to eat turkey at Christmas but have hamburgers on Saturday. Normal might include going to school, spending an hour on homework after school, going to the movies once a month, having friends over every Friday night, and knowing that Dad is passionate about keeping his car in great
shape.

Parents determine what’s normal by the rhythm they establish in their homes. So—and here’s the key question—how normal is God in your home?

Some of us are just old enough to have still received fine china as a wedding gift. These days, we’re wondering why it was a priority, because we never use it. Our kids don’t see it as normal because it rarely comes out of the cabinet. When it does come out, the kids figure someone special must be coming over, everyone’s concerned about whether it breaks or not, and we all tend to get a little more uptight. Consequently, our china set has missed a lot over the life of our family.

It missed almost all the conversations we’ve had over dinner. It missed the laughter, the wrestling after supper, and some hilarious times with the four of us and with friends. It missed all the practical jokes we’ve played on each other and all the snacks during movies. It missed the arguments, the tears, and the seemingly incurable hiccups. It pretty much missed everything. If you ever asked my kids if they ever wanted it as an inheritance, they’d likely say no. It just isn’t a part of anyone’s life.

We haven’t thrown the china out because it costs a lot of money, and it’s important in the sense that valuable possesions are important.

Some of us grew up with a faith like that. God was important, but He just didn’t come out much in the daily rhythm of life. Some of you grew up in a home where faith was never talked about. You never went to church on Sunday, and God never came up during the week. It wasn’t part of your rhythm at all.

Some of you grew up in a home where God was part of a Sunday rhythm, but like fine china, He never showed up on any other day. You didn’t pray at meals. God was never part of a daily dialogue. In fact, you could never figure out how the God of Sunday had any claim on everyday life. It was just a mystery to you.

You knew it was important. You believed at some level that God had value. But like the china in your cabinet, God just didn’t see much time in your family’s life. Some of you grew up in a decidedly Christian home, and God was part of a rhythm. For some of us, it felt like a bit of an awkward rhythm.

A well-meaning and sincere parent would bring out the big Bible after dinner. A passage would be read. And then questions would be asked. I’ve tried that as a parent, and it’s all good until the uncomfortable “no one’s answering my questions and can we please just be excused” moment that inevitably follows. It feels so formal, as though it isn’t actually connected to everyday life. Somehow faith ends up feeling like a compartment we step into for a moment rather than a conversation that’s woven into the fabric of life.

That’s the difference between a God who is at the center of the family and one who is put up on the shelf and only taken out for special occasions.
Orangeparents.org

Live Small, Tell Big Stories

Most of what I write in books is simply what I live at home.

As I start to think about writing a new one, there’s a simple lesson from the Acuff house that keeps coming up. Three years ago when we moved to Nashville, people encouraged us to buy a bigger house. It’s not because we’re super rich and wear pants made of komodo dragon. (Do you know of a more difficult leather to make into comfortable pants? I don’t.)

Friends just had an expectation of the kind of house we’d live in and our choice surprised a few of them. Why did we choose a smaller house? Because we want to tell big stories.

Often, we parents fail to see how every part of our life is connected. We fail to see that the size of something boring like a mortgage can impact the size of something awesome like an adventure with our family. So we make big decisions that lock us into long term situations and never see the restraints our lifestyle puts on our ability to tell a story.

The Acuffs, though, go small so that we can go big. Does that mean that when guests come over, they have to sleep in separate twin beds like the Brady Bunch? Does that mean that our air conditioner sounds a little like a jet engine falling down a flight of stairs made of cats? Does that mean our garage door has a curve that is less style and more “wow—that thing is super old?” It does.

All those things are true. But so is the ski adventure in Crested Butte, Colorado. So is the kindergartens we built in Vietnam. So are the guitar lessons we can afford and the painting classes we wouldn’t miss.

Stuff is fun, but it rarely leads to a great story.

And please don’t read this like we’ve done something all that difficult. Jenny and I aren’t roughing it. We don’t mill our own flour or hand knit jeans for our kids so that we can pinch our pennies. We love our house and feel blessed to have one. By global standards we are Donald Trump with less confusing haircuts.

But, we don’t make big purchase decisions without wondering about the story implications. I dare you to do the same.

When you buy a car, when you decide where to live, when you choose how to financially live your life, ask this question:

“What story will this help us tell?”

Jenny and I might not have a mansion, other than the baller one we’ll have in heaven, but we do have a 10-year-old who can play Taylor Swift’s “Mean” on the ukulele because we paid for lessons.

And that’s pretty awesome.
Orangeparents.org

Sooo Big!

I was reflecting on my pastor's sermon yesterday.  He talked about the games we used to play with our children.  You know the one when you ask the child "How big are you?"  and the child throws up their hands and you say "Sooo big."  How cool would it be if someone asked you "How big is your faith?"  and you could throw your arms out wide and say "Soo big."  Pastor offered up a challenge and I would like to pass it on to the readers of this blog.  He challenged the congregation to get deeper into our faith.    We have to grow physically, if you don't, usually you go to the Dr. to see if something is wrong.  We should be growing spiritually as well.  If you aren't shouldn't we go talk to God?  

Here are some interesting findings when it comes to the importance of family time and spiritual growth:

• The Search Institute (2007) found that three factors as predictors of faith development in teens were: 1) frequency of discussions about faith with parents; 2) frequency of family prayer time; and 3) frequency of shared family experiences and activities.
• Lifeway (2010) interviewed parents of young adults (ages 20-35) about what they did with their children that resulted in positive spiritual outcomes for them as adults. Among the top things listed: regular family prayer time; students connecting with a leader at church; teens regularly serving at church; and teens participating in ministry or service projects with their family.

So I challenge you to grow spiritually this quarter.  Here are some suggestions on how to do that:  Read the Word more, Pray more, and get involved in ministry and mission.  Not just you, but involve the whole family.  Do a service project together.  I have little ones and I thought we could fill the quiet bags at the church together.  Do you have other great ideas on how we can grow spiritually?  I would love to hear them so leave a comment and share.